


Left Hand Free

by tuesday



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Civil War Team Iron Man, College Student Peter Parker, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, POV Peter Parker, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 12:30:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17447033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: Peter and Tony's first meeting is both the same and very, very different.  In which Civil War happens when Peter is acollegesophomore, and Peter catches Tony on the rebound.—"Are you—are you hitting on me right now?"Tony looked up.  "Do you want me to be?  Because normally I'd start with how impressive this is—" he gestured with his free hand at where he was stuck to the door, "—but I'm afraid you might take it as encouragement to leave me here."





	Left Hand Free

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks first of all to Strozzzi for all your encouragement and putting up with my constant flailing. Thank you especially to Natcat for all of that, plus betaing this for me. You are both rock stars. 
> 
> This fic was inspired by how it seemed to me that Tony was surprised that Peter was a _high school_ sophomore and also, apparently, a lot of unresolved Civil War feelings.
> 
> Past the tags, content advisories include the expected age gap, the events of Civil War, and Tony taking responsibility for other people's choices. Please let me know if you have any questions! 
> 
> I also have a question at the end wrt a scene in this fic that gave me deja vu on rereading and would appreciate if anyone could answer that for me.

Peter had managed to keep his identity as Spider-Man (mostly) under wraps for four, nearly five years, but five minutes with Tony Stark threatened to unravel it all. Not quite thinking it through, Peter webbed Tony's hand to the door.

Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter as if to say, _Really?_

"I'm nineteen, and it's my decision. Don't you dare tell my aunt."

"If you're nineteen, you'd think you wouldn't be afraid of a little parental disapproval." Tony looked down at his hand. His face was stern, but his lips twitched at the corners. "I'm not actually going to tell your weirdly hot aunt." Tony tugged at his hand. "Which—wow, did that run in the family. Congratulations, kid. At your age, I was still at the spotty, lanky, awkward disaster stage, not looking like I just stepped off a catwalk."

"Are you—are you hitting on me right now?"

Tony looked up. "Do you want me to be? Because normally I'd start with how impressive this is—" he gestured with his free hand at where he was stuck to the door, "—but I'm afraid you might take it as encouragement to leave me here."

"You already complimented the web fluid." Peter grabbed the solvent. "But I suppose I could listen to a famous inventor and certified genius tell me how smart I am."

"Genius, huh?" Tony asked, leaning back against the door.

"I thought we were stroking _my_ ego here." Peter tipped the solvent over the mess keeping Tony's hand connected to the doorknob.

"We can multitask." Tony watched with obvious interest as the webbing fizzed a little. "How long do you think this will take to dissolve?"

"In a rush to get somewhere?"

No one had any right to look so attractive trapped against a door, much less someone who was over twice Peter's age and fresh out of a break-up according to the tabloids, but Tony's smile was charming and downright filthy as he said, "No rush. Just thinking what we could do to pass the time."

"With one hand free," Peter said flatly.

Tony wiggled the free hand. "I promise I only need the one."

"How hard are you rebounding right now?" Peter asked.

"Pretty hard," Tony admitted. "Tell me to stop, and I'll lay off the flirting. I'll be good. I won't even speculate on how you could lift me with one hand and show me what _you_ could do singlehandedly."

"You sort of just did." But Peter was considering it. He hadn't stepped out of Tony's space after applying the solvent. He'd stepped further in, crowding Tony up against the hollow wood.

"Obliquely. I don't think it counts."

"Mr. Stark." Peter was really glad Aunt May had needed to leave for her shift, because otherwise this definitely would not be happening. "Tony. I'm not telling you to stop."

"Huh. You're not." Tony reached out and put his arm around Peter's shoulder. He slid his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of Peter's neck.

"I'm not." Peter ducked out of Tony's grip long enough to put the solvent bottle on his desk. He returned to show Tony what he could do with two hands and his mouth.

"This is not how I saw the day going," Tony said a while later, both hands threaded through Peter's hair and naked in Peter's bed.

"Better or worse?" Peter asked curiously. He had three fingers in Tony's ass as he fumbled for more lube with his left hand.

Tony's laugh was a little wild. His eyes were wide, taking in every detail as Peter licked a stripe up his inner thigh. "Better. Much, much better."

"I think there's still room for improvement."

Peter put his mouth to a different purpose than continuing the conversation. Tony didn't object and took up the work for the both of them.

"I'm not entirely certain I'm not dreaming." Tony tugged gently at Peter's hair, which would be rude if Peter hadn't already emphasized how much he liked it. Honestly, he could go a lot harder. "This week, I have been shot at, nearly blown up, and had to deal with any number of international disasters, not to mention watching a friend walk out on me after causing one of them himself. And now here I am, in bed with you."

Peter took his mouth off of Tony's dick, ignoring the way it hit his chin once it was free, to say, "That sounds like a bad week."

"It's definitely turning around." Tony tugged a lot more firmly as he said, "C'mon, that's enough prep work. If I have any control over this dream, I'd very much like to come while you're inside me."

"It's not a dream," Peter let himself be tugged, lips brushing Tony's mouth, "but I'll see what I can do."

Peter slid into Tony slowly, and he could see Tony's point about this being a dream, because it didn't seem like this could be real, going from lecture hall this morning to being buried balls-deep in Tony Stark this afternoon. Tony made a small, seemingly involuntary sound of protest as Peter eased out, then one of satisfaction when he pushed back in.

"Just keep doing that," Tony said. "I promise, you'll get me there."

Peter did; Tony did. Eventually, Peter followed after.

Tony's expression was contemplative in the afterglow. He petted the hair he'd pulled before. His breathing was heavy, chest heaving, drawing attention to the scarring centered on and radiating out from his sternum. Peter couldn't resist dropping a couple kisses there. Tony said, "I was thinking I'd catch a different flight before all this, but if you want, I can take the same one."

"It's up to you." Peter gave Tony one final kiss, dropped this time against his mouth. "But I'm sure you're a busy man. Speaking of which—"

"Are you kicking me out?" Tony said. "It feels like you're kicking me out. It's really weird from this side, almost hurtful."

Peter grinned and rolled his eyes. "I can't be the first person to throw you out of bed, and if I'm going to follow you to Germany, I need to make sure someone takes notes for me in all my classes."

"You very well might be," Tony said, but his smile was easy as he rolled out of bed and pulled back on his clothes. "See you on the flight. Or not. At some point, anyway."

Tony waved the hand he'd had webbed to the doorknob. He didn't look back. Peter watched Tony walk away and, when he heard the front door close, put his face in his hands. He'd just fucked _Tony Stark_ , and it was some of the best sex Peter had had in his life—and that was outside the enduring celebrity crush he had going.

The front door opened a second time. Peter straightened, but it wasn't May's familiar tread he heard. Tony rounded the corner and pulled Peter up into another kiss. It was fierce, unrelenting, full of far too much hunger and want for a near stranger from someone who was still recovering from being fucked halfway into the mattress. It didn't so much wind down as stop, to be replaced by something shorter, gentler, soft little pecks like Tony couldn't bring himself to pull fully away.

Tony said, "I will definitely see you on that flight."

Tony left again. Lips tingling, Peter stood naked in his bedroom for far too long.

He was in so much trouble.

—

Tony rolled up to the plane only a little before take-off. Peter had begun to wonder if it would just be him and the pilots, a terrible waste considering the plane looked like it could seat at least twelve people. Someone had driven Peter to the airport and escorted him to the plane, but when Peter had asked if he'd be joining them, the guy had snorted. "You're a little old for a babysitter."

Peter had sat in one of the seats toward the middle and was busy revising a paper due the next week when Tony came bounding up the stairs. He grinned at Peter and said, "Let's get this party started. I'll let the pilots know we're ready."

When he returned, he toed off his shoes and took a seat across from Peter. Tony put his feet up, right in Peter's lap. Peter considered pushing them off. Tony's eyes carried a certain sense of amusement and of guarded caution. It was entirely possible that's what he wanted Peter to do, to create some distance between them. Ever contrary, Peter grabbed one and dug his thumbs into the arches.

The amusement slid right off Tony's face to be replaced by heat. "Tell me about yourself, Peter."

"What do you want to know?" Peter asked. He rubbed in small circles and savored the little groan Tony let out when he hit a particular spot.

"Honestly? Right now I'm curious if you're a member of the mile high club."

"This is my first time on a plane," Peter said with affected disinterest, like he wasn't already reacting to the memories of what had happened the last time they'd been this close, not so very long ago.

With the foot not in Peter's hands, Tony trailed his toes up the inseam of Peter's jeans. "Would you like to be?"

"Tony, we're still on the ground."

"It's a very long flight."

It was. Peter had meant to spend it revising his paper and studying. He did some of that while Tony tapped away at his tablet and got some of his own work done. But a significant part of it was also spent with his head buried between Tony's thighs as Tony said, "I can't, I can't get it up again. Age is working against me here. Have pity on an old man."

Despite his words, Tony's hands in Peter's hair kept him right where he was, lapping away at the rim of his ass when he wasn't sucking on his soft, oversensitized dick.

"Fuck," Tony said as Peter found his prostate and started stroking it again. "Fuck, fuck, I can't—oh, keep doing that. Right there, just like that—"

After a certain point, Tony wasn't able to get it up again, but that didn't stop Peter from wringing a few more orgasms out of him. He was pliant whenever Peter pushed into him, welcoming, warm and open.

"I thought you said you hadn't done this before," Tony said complainingly at one point.

"Sex on an airplane," Peter said patiently. "I've had sex with people before. One of them was even you."

"This isn't sex," Tony denied. "I don't know what it is. I think I've died and ascended to a higher plane of existence."

Peter kissed him and let himself drive in a little harder. If Tony could still talk, then Peter wasn't trying hard enough.

When they touched down, Tony was dressed again, but he had love bites along his neck and his hair was beyond salvaging. He was limping, but waved off Peter's one attempt at an apology. "You do _not_ get to apologize for this. If I could remember how to form words, I would be thanking you."

"You're forming words right now."

"Don't sass me. I am too tired and too fucked out for sass."

"Did you want to share a hotel room?" Peter asked. "Or have you had enough of me?"

Tony pointed a finger at him. "Parker, I am starting to get the sense that I could never get enough of you. But I am also too tired and too fucked out to let you sleep in the same bed as me if I want to be in any shape to fight tomorrow." Tony dropped his hand. "But then again—"

They got a hotel room together. They only spent part of that night sleeping.

—

Peter couldn't help it. He kept thinking, _This is Tony Stark_ , even at the same time as he got to see something under the public facade, scraping away at the paint with his thumbnail where he wasn't taking a sledgehammer to the whole structure.

Nothing he'd known about Tony Stark the idol said he was a little bit ticklish, said that he'd look like he was having a revelation when he came, said that after the first couple orgasms he'd let his guard down and look vulnerable, like he carried with him metaphorical armor and Peter had peeled him right out of it. Nothing had prepared Peter for this, his celebrity crush nothing like the invincible figure on TV, but instead someone achingly human who looked at Peter almost like he wasn't just some rebound or fling, but someone Tony could genuinely fall in love with.

Peter didn't have a lot of protections against that. Instead, he did his best to leave a mark, to make the sorts of memories Tony could only look back on with disbelieving fondness, fireworks in the dark that left after-images long after they were gone. Maybe this was transitory, but Peter would be remembered.

 _This is Tony Stark_ , Peter thought, pressing kiss after kiss to Tony's open mouth, _and he's going to wreck me._

Tony kissed back with something that felt a whole lot like desperation.

 _But I'm going to wreck him first_.

—

There was a fight at an airport. It didn't go well for either side. Even with the new suit Tony had given him, Peter got smacked down hard by Ant-Man turned Giant Man. Tony briefly checked on him.

Tony flipped up his faceplate. "You good, Parker?"

Peter gave a thumbs up, but it took him far too long to struggle to his feet. At that point, Tony was back in the air, along with the Falcon and Iron Patriot. Vision aimed—and missed. On the ground, too far from any structures tall enough to be of use, Peter could only watch as one figure plummeted from the sky in nothing like a controlled fall.

Though he hated it— _hated it_ —Peter turned his back on a fight he couldn't help with and ran toward one he could. He arrived at a faceoff with Captain America and Bucky Barnes just in time to get tazed by the Black Widow. It didn't help to know it put him in the company of kings.

—

Tony had to return to the US to report back on the failed capture of the two fugitives he'd actually been gunning for and the successful arrest of every member of his team who hadn't accompanied him, plus another rogue would-be hero. From the way he'd watched the ambulance load Colonel Rhodes, it was obvious he'd rather stay.

He and Peter took the same flight, but they didn't renew their membership in the club Peter had so recently joined. Tony wrote report after report in between putting his face in his hands and rubbing at his eyes. Peter sat next to him, thighs pressed together along their length, and, when Tony had had enough and shoved his tablet aside to stare out the window, took Tony's right hand in his left and smoothed his thumb over the knuckles.

Tony didn't say anything, but he didn't pull away, either.

Peter finished a couple papers, got a start on a semester project, and didn't draw any attention to it when Tony started to cry. It was a long flight, but they were landing long before Peter could think of anything comforting to say.

—

Tony didn't really have the time to take Peter back to his apartment. He did it anyway.

"If I see Ross right now, I'm going to punch him in his insufferably smug face, and then I'll have to arrest myself," Tony said when Peter offered to just order a Lyft. "He can wait."

When they arrived, Tony leaned over him, and Peter was already leaning in for a kiss before he realized Tony was going for the door. Tony put his hand on the window instead, aborting his forward motion in favor of climbing halfway into Peter's lap. He threaded his hands through Peter's hair and nipped at Peter's lower lip. Peter held him steady, one hand at his hip and the other against his spine.

Tony cleared his throat after long minutes spent necking that passed far too quickly. "I'm going to stop myself here before we get arrested for public indecency instead."

Peter kept Tony steady as he slid off Peter's lap and back onto the bench. Peter got his own door. Tony grabbed Peter's hand before he could get out.

"Hey." His eyes were a little wide. He bit his lip. "I'll call you, okay?"

Peter kissed Tony's hand. He smiled gently to take the sting out of his words when he said, "Is that, 'I'll call you' or ' _I'll_ call _you_ '?"

" _I'll call you_."

It was a nice thought, nicer even than the suit Tony had left him. Peter watched Tony's car drive away. He decided he wouldn't hold his breath.

—

Several days passed. It was a good thing Peter wasn't holding his breath.

"You keep looking at your phone like it's going to bite you," May observed. "Something wrong?"

Peter pasted on a smile. "Nothing I didn't expect."

"You may not be a kid anymore," May nudged him with her shoulder, "but you know you can always talk to me, right?"

"I know, Aunt May." Peter put his phone away. "But a man's gotta have some secrets."

"You have far too many of those already." May didn't sound like she minded, but she was probably right. Peter never had gotten around to telling her about Spider-Man, and at this point, he didn't think he ever would. Best to give her something.

"I met someone." Peter shrugged. "I guess I fell a bit harder than he did."

May pulled him into a hug. "There'll be other guys."

Peter's smile kept trying to pull out of shape. "I know."

None of them would be Tony Stark. But then, he might have a chance at keeping one of them.

—

Nine days after that first meeting, Tony called. Somehow he was programmed into Peter's phone as "You Know Who This Is."

"MJ, you have to stop getting Ned to change your contact in my phone. You've been Michelle to me since freshman year, and I'm not changing it just because you've decided we're friends now. Making it something even more different than your name means I'm just going to end up accidentally deleting your number."

"MJ, huh? Should I be jealous?"

Peter was thrown by Tony's voice. He stood up from the kitchen table, where he'd been putting together notecards. He was filled with a sudden and nervous energy. "Not of MJ."

"What about this Ned? Anything I should worry about there?" Tony's voice was teasing and easy, like he hadn't said he'd call and then disappeared for a week.

"Not really. There was this one guy." Peter tried to keep his voice as light, as easy, as Tony's. He crossed to the living room and quickly back again. "But he kind of ghosted me."

"Sounds terrible. You should dump him and have dinner with me instead."

"I wouldn't want to cut into your busy schedule."

"Not much taking up my time outside of hospital visits."

Okay, ouch. Peter had not considered that. He asked, "How is Colonel Rhodes?"

Tony was quiet, like he'd been surprised by the question, and Peter felt doubly bad. "He's healing. He must be, if he was feeling up to harassing me out of my own hospital bed."

Peter sat down in the chair he'd abandoned. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you over dinner." There was the sound of fingers sliding through hair. "Though it'll have to be just dinner, because I am in no shape for anything more athletic."

"Are _you_ okay?"

Tony paused before answering. "Ask me again after dinner."

"I'm holding you to that."

Tony's voice was soft. "I thought you might."

—

At dinner, Tony's fading shiner had been replaced with further bruising in varying stages of healing and severity. It was all Peter could do not to touch his face.

"That bad, huh?" Tony had the wry smile of someone who knew exactly how bad it was and that it had been much worse not long ago. He walked with the slightest hitch in his gait. He was done up in a tailored suit like armor and he hooked his arm in Peter's as they walked inside and were seated at a small, two person table.

"You look like you got in another fight directly following the airport."

"Not directly. I took you home first."

They got their menus and both ordered water.

Peter let the specials wash over him, instead focused on Tony's face, not just on the obvious bruising, but the dark smudges under his eyes and the shade of his skin, several shades paler than it had been before. He had a small scab on one brow. His lower lip had a mostly healed split in it, the slightest divot. Peter couldn't help flicking his eyes over Tony's suit, wondering what injuries it hid.

"That's some serious undressing me with your eyes. At least buy me dinner first." Tony cracked a grin when Peter met his gaze head on. "I'm kidding. Looking's free, and I'm buying."

"Tony—"

" _After_ dinner."

They ordered burgers, though Tony insisted Peter would have enjoyed the sliders of filet mignon more.

"It should be a crime to order burgers at a steakhouse," Tony said.

"You literally just did that."

Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Everyone knows I'm half a step above a criminal."

Peter formulated and discarded replies. _Who's been telling you lies?_ seemed like it would bite too deep, no matter how sincere. _Must be a big step_ , didn't quite cover it. _I'd let you lead me into a life of crime_ , was untrue and too much of a joke for the moment.

Peter reached across the table and grabbed the hand. He noted the knuckles were in rough shape. "Good thing I'm not everyone."

"Good thing," Tony echoed faintly. He let Peter keep the hand until the bread arrived.

They talked about a number of things that weren't the battle at the airport or whatever happened after it, things that had nothing to do with the Avengers or superheroes or powers of any kind but those made with an idea and their own two hands. Tony appreciated the web fluid Peter had made and the many failed formulae along the way, and Peter appreciated hearing about some of Tony's own workshop and testing misadventures.

"And then I went through the roof, through the piano, and plowed straight into my third favorite car."

Peter couldn't believe he was on a date with someone who could say "my third favorite car" and not be talking about a model. He couldn't believe he was enjoying a date with someone who could say "my third favorite car" and see nothing wrong with that combination of words. But Peter was—he was really, really enjoying himself. He kept stealing fries off of Tony's plate, and Tony had taken a bite out of Peter's burger to see if he liked the way it was prepared any better than his own. At some point, Peter had managed to reclaim Tony's left hand.

"I thought you were supposed to tell stories that put you in a good light on your first date," Peter said.

"I don't have any stories like that."

"I find that hard to believe."

Tony leaned back. The mirth faded from his eyes. His lips thinned. "Cards on the table?"

Peter straightened. "If you'd like."

"I'm an ex-arms dealer, even if I only sold to the US Army, who has been a certified mess along with holding the label of genius since I was four years old. I have control issues, boundary issues, and a bad habit of clinging tight and never letting go." In contrast to his words, Tony had relaxed the muscles in his left hand as if in preparation to let it slip away. Peter tightened his own in response. "I have a total of two close friends in my life I haven't driven away. It was three, but then I dated her, and the rest's history. I've gotten all three grievously injured in various ways. The Iron Man thing looks good on paper, but in practice it's a lot of late nights in the lab, injuries and near death experiences because the man in the armor is just as human as he was going into it, and night terrors from all of the above. I don't have much to offer you, Peter."

"But—?"

Tony spread his right hand and waved it across the table as if to say, _What you see is what you get_. "But nothing. Those are the cards."

"I'll take them."

"You don't—"

"I'll take them." Peter squeezed Tony's hand. "Unless you're taking them back."

Tony's eyes were unreadable. The server came to offer dessert.

"Just the check, please." Tony handed her his card and turned back to Peter.

"Anything else I should know?" Peter asked.

"Only that I am ridiculously enamored with you for knowing you less than two weeks." Tony took a deep breath. "What about you? I'm feeling kind of exposed here."

"I'm feeling pretty enamored, too," Peter said, then, smiling at Tony's expression, "I'm pretty sure you saw it all when you looked me up for my alternate identity."

"Tell it to me anyway."

Peter's own smile fell away. "I've lost a lot of the people I've loved, so I'm not so good at letting go, either." It was Tony's turn to squeeze his hand. It was a hurt and a comfort to see fellow feeling in his eyes. "There's, uh, all the attendant benefits and drawbacks of that alternate identity. Oh, and I've had a bit of a celebrity crush on you since I was seven years old."

"Started young, huh?" Tony said.

"I have a bit of an excuse." Tony raised an eyebrow. "You saved my life at Stark Expo."

"I saved a lot of people at Stark Expo twelve years ago. Almost as many as I endangered."

"Yeah, well." Peter smiled at the memory, though Tony looked a tiny bit horrified. "Most of them weren't wearing an Iron Man mask and pretending like they could repulsor blast those rogue Hammer robots."

"You were that little kid."

"You remember me."

"Give me a moment, I'm having another crisis about our age difference."

"Would it help if I gave you another blowjob?"

Tony made a scandalized noise. "We're in the middle of a restaurant."

"Not here." Peter stroked his thumb across the tendon of Tony's wrist. "I'm willing to try a lot of things, but I'm not into that."

"Not an exhibitionist despite the spandex?"

Peter's smile grew sharp. "In this case, I don't want to share."

Tony pointed at him. "You are very good at being distracting."

"And you'd like to be distracted?"

"That, too."

The check arrived. Tony signed it and pocketed his card.

"Dinner's over, Tony."

Tony sighed. "I'll give you my full report if you really want it, but here are the highlights: Siberia. A bunch of HYDRA super soldiers sitting in cryo and waiting to be activated. A really weird revenge plot that hinged on people not telling me things." Tony's lips twisted. "The super soldiers were all dead, but the point was just to get us there. Turns out my parents were murdered by Cap's good friend Barnes back when he was the Winter Soldier. Cap knew." Tony kept his gaze just over Peter's shoulder, not looking at him head on. "There was a video. I punched him. It devolved."

Peter was frozen to his seat, but Tony just smiled like this was all one big joke at his own expense and he was expected to laugh at it. "I took a shield to the ARC reactor. They left. The end. Avengers over. Sorry to have invited you to the party just as the guests were clearing out."

"Tony—"

Tony shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'd honestly prefer to pretend it didn't happen."

Peter was beginning to see how Tony just kept collecting issues as opposed to actually dealing with them, but it was too early to push. Instead, he squeezed Tony's hand one last time. "Want to get out of here?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

On the way out, Peter said, "I guess that answers if you're okay."

"Nah." Tony leaned into Peter. "I am okay. Or if I'm not, I will be."

Tony didn't take him home, but they did kiss goodnight for far longer than was seemly. Peter gently trailed his fingertips along the bruises of Tony's face, because he couldn't see a reason to hold back anymore, and followed them with featherlight brushes of his lips.

"You're kind of a sap, huh?" Tony said, but not like he was disapproving. "I can work with that."

"Don't work. Go home. Get some rest."

"You're not my real dad." But Tony went home. Presumably, he got at least a little rest.

Peter worried anyway.

—

"Tony Stark?" May asked.

"What?"

May put her phone down in front of Peter. A photo from a recent article on a gossip site was blown up to fit the screen. His own face didn't stare back at him only because it was busy nuzzling Tony's.

"Oh. Uh. Turns out he fell pretty hard, too."

"Do you have any idea how old he is?"

"For a brief, but memorable period of time, I helped to edit his Wikipedia article, so I'd say yeah, I've got a pretty good one." May did not look like she appreciated Peter's flippancy. Peter couldn't say he appreciated that look of horror on her face, so they were sort of even, here. "Yes, Tony Stark, and yes, I do."

"Ask a stupid question," May muttered. She rubbed her cheek with one hand. "I'm just concerned. You know you can still talk to me about anything, right?

"I know." Peter pulled her into a hug. "And I appreciate it."

"But really—Tony Stark?" May asked plaintively. "I bought you all those posters."

Peter laughed. "You knew I had a type."

"I was expecting boys with goatees, not—well."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure he's rebounding."

"That does not make me feel better, no."

"I'm really happy?" Peter tried.

"That makes me feel a little better."

"But you don't think it'll last."

"Do you?"

Peter had hopes, but those weren't the same thing as expectations. "No. But I think if it's a mistake, it's one I'll have a lot of fun making. And it doesn't have to work out to be worth having while it's there."

"I just don't want you hurt."

"That's life." Peter was looking forward to living it, honestly.

—

Tony called about the pictures a few hours later. "I already got them taken down, but it's entirely possible someone recognized you."

"Yeah. My Aunt May."

"Oh. Awkward. How'd that go?"

"She's waiting for you to break my heart."

Tony was quiet for a moment. "With my track record, no promises."

"Who says I won't break yours first?"

"Good point, but I'd rather not start our relationship off with an emotional arms race."

Peter did not inform him that that was almost sort of _exactly_ how he'd started their relationship off. He put his phone between his shoulder and his ear and gathered his books from the library carrel he'd claimed. He threw aside caution or playing it cool. "While I've got you—"

"You do," Tony said warmly.

"—I was wondering when I could see you again."

"Would it be too soon to say tonight?"

"If you don't mind a quiet night in while I study."

"A quiet night in sounds good." Peter could hear the smile in Tony's voice. "It sounds perfect."

"Do I get to order a Lyft this time?"

"Not on your life. What's the point of a personal driver if they never do any driving?"

"So what you're saying is you really need me around to provide job security for your minions."

"That's what I like about you, Peter. You get me."

"And here I thought you liked me for my web fluid and all the orgasms." Peter smiled cheerfully at the dirty look he got from a passing student.

"Those, too." There was a sound like Tony putting down something metal against a padded surface. "This is your cue to list all the things you like about me."

"We'd be here a while."

"That sounds promising."

"I have lecture." Peter grinned at Tony's tiny sound of disappointment. "How about a random sample?"

"Not sure how random it will be if you're picking, but I'm here for it."

"I like your goatee."

"It's a very nice goatee."

"I especially like the way it feels against my bare thighs."

"Are you in public right now?"

"I am." Peter was walking through the main thoroughfare as they spoke.

"What happened to not your thing?"

"That's sharing." Peter grinned. "As you said, I wear spandex in public. I've learned to let go of shame."

"I've seen pictures of you in that spandex. I've gotta say, not a lot to be ashamed of there."

"Is this a hint you're into the costume?"

"Maybe the one I made you. It's not quite spandex, but I could always design another."

"I'd love to explore that," Peter said. Preferably in person. "But I'm about to head into the building."

"Tonight, then?"

"Tonight," Peter agreed.

—

Tony was healing. Peter respected that, didn't want to set Tony back in the process. He had stitches Peter was hesitant about popping. Also, he had a lot of reading to do.

They were curled up on the couch, and Tony was attempting to make an argument for what they should do on Peter's next study break. "I've got a whole workshop of supplies. Worst case scenario, we can glue me back together."

"I really hope you're talking about the medical glue in the first aid kit you've got stocked there." Peter made a note on one of his notecards.

"That's another thing I like about you, Peter. Your unrelenting sense of optimism."

"I think you have us confused about who the optimist is here, because we are definitely not having sex tonight, no matter how much you live in hope."

"Fair enough." Tony put his feet in Peter's lap, but he kept his toes to himself, heels pillowed against Peter's thigh. "I'll just watch you study."

"Is this your kink, or were you actually forbidden from working?"

Tony held a hand to his chest. "Have you considered that maybe this is how I bond?"

"I don't mind the staring. I just wondered how much you wanted to endure in the way of self-inflicted sexual frustration if that was your thing. I could always undo a few buttons or take my shirt off." Peter turned the page. Tony stared. "Let me know what you decide."

Tony cleared his throat after a few minutes. "Just a few buttons. Enough that I can see your clavicles."

"Or down my shirt when I lean forward?"

Tony shifted, his knees parting slightly. "I like the way you think."

Peter had the feeling Tony had no idea how normal people actually bonded. Peter didn't mind. He was glad he'd gone with the button-up instead of one of his t-shirts. He undid the buttons and maybe leaned forward a little more than strictly necessary as he plowed through two more chapters. When he looked over, Tony's legs were further apart. His eyes were half-lidded.

Peter considered the variables carefully. He put his textbook and pencil aside. Tony's lips turned up at the corners as Peter said, "It occurs to me that if you can't keep still on your own—"

"I can try," Tony said helpfully.

"—that I can make you keep still."

"But I'd prefer that. That is the definite winner here."

Peter moved Tony's feet out of his lap. He slid to his knees on the floor. Tony wasn't wearing a belt. He held his breath as Peter drew the zipper down and held his hips up as Peter eased trousers and underwear both down his thighs and over his knees. Gravity took them the rest of the way to his ankles.

"Remember what I said about pulling," Peter said as Tony threaded his fingers through his hair.

"I seem to remember something about more and harder."

Peter smiled. "Exactly."

Peter held Tony down. No one popped any stitches.

—

They went on a few more dates. They stayed in more. Peter kept up with his schoolwork and patrols and was only a little distracted by the thought of Tony's smile, the memory of bending him over the workbench in his workshop, the hope he could coax another surprised laugh out of him later that night. They didn't see each other every day—or even most days—but they saw each other more often than Peter expected.

He couldn't shake the feeling that this was temporary, that he'd caught Tony in a vulnerable moment, but any day now, Tony would get tired of him or realize it was a bad idea in the first place. Peter embraced the moment, but it felt very much like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He did his best to fit in as many memories as he could before it all inevitably ended. Tony was happy to indulge him.

—

The weekend after Tony got his stitches out, Peter put aside his schoolwork, and Tony put off his SI work, and they stayed in bed all weekend.

"You make me feel like," Tony paused to press his lips against the back of Peter's neck, "like I really need to step up my game here. I feel like I literally can't keep up."

Peter's own lips were wrapped around the knuckles of Tony's left middle and index fingers. Peter could feel every detail of Tony's calluses and the whorls of his fingertips against his tongue. He moaned around them as Tony snapped his hips and caught that particular spot that made Peter see sparks.

"You almost make me wish I was twenty again." Tony kissed his way to Peter's shoulder while Peter curled his tongue and sucked. Tony set his teeth at the join of shoulder and neck and bit down. The pace he drove was hard, unrelenting. Peter had already come twice—once on Tony's mouth and again on his fingers—but he felt himself getting close again, felt like he was being driven out of his own body. He was half certain this was revenge for the plane. "I want to give you so much. I want to give you decades. I want to give you everything, Peter."

Peter whined as Tony removed his fingers and again as he wrapped them around Peter's dick. "C'mon, Peter. Please. _Please_. You can do this." Peter couldn't do this. Peter felt like he was dying, like Tony was killing him. Tony's voice was desperate, pleading. "Come for me just one more time."

Tony could've asked anything of him in that moment, and Peter would have tried to give it to him. Helpless, defenseless against that voice and what the body attached was doing to him, feeling like it was dragged out of him, Peter came one more time.

—

He woke up early Sunday morning to Tony fiddling with a hologram gauntlet design propped up at the head of the bed. Tony's voice was hushed, like he was afraid to wake Peter further, when he asked, "Did I wake you?"

"Mm." Peter rolled over right into Tony's lap.

Tony's smile was fond in the blue glow of the hologram. "Go back to sleep."

Peter thought about it. He also thought about sucking Tony's dick, a couple inches and a small bit of cotton away from Peter's mouth. Tony petted Peter's hair. He closed his eyes. He nuzzled into Tony's thigh. It made a surprisingly good pillow, all hard muscle with a thin layer of fat cushioning it. Peter fell asleep to Tony's short nails scratching gently against his scalp as he daydreamed about the sweet salt of Tony's skin.

The last thing he remembered before he was pulled under was Tony's whisper of, "You are so easy to fall in love with, Peter Parker." But Peter couldn't be sure it wasn't part of his dream, biting marks into Tony's thighs and barely holding back the urge to devour him whole. In the dream, he knew Tony would let him—knew that Tony would let him do whatever he wanted. Tony served his bleeding heart on a silver platter, and Peter held it beating weakly in his hands as he tried to put it back in Tony's chest without doing further damage. Tony repeated, "You are so easy to fall in love with, Peter Parker."

"This is temporary," Peter insisted.

Tony shook his head. The hole in his chest refused to heal. His heart came apart in Peter's hands.

When he woke, Tony was still working with one hand. The other rested in Peter's hair. His smile as he looked down was just as fond as before. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

Peter thought, _No matter how much you want this, it's never going to last._

"Good morning," Peter said before he put his mouth to better use, sucking Tony right through the thin fabric of his underwear. As a reward, he got both hands.

"You don't have to—" Tony said, his voice strained.

Peter stopped to pull Tony's dick out. "I want to."

Tony didn't argue with him.

—

Three months into dating Tony Stark, Tony called Peter up and said, "We need to talk."

Peter hadn't expected this to last, but he also hadn't expected to be dumped over the phone while he sat in the library staring unseeing at the notecards he'd made with Tony's feet in his lap. "So talk."

"Over dinner?"

"I'd rather not," Peter said, on automatic. He put down his pen and shuffled the notecards into some semblance of order. One had gotten caught under a textbook, and he bent it in half as he tugged it out to toss in the pile.

"Plans with Ned and MJ?" Tony asked like he had no idea Peter was on the verge of putting his fist through his usual carrel.

"Not yet." It was late notice, but he knew Ned, at least, would drop everything to provide emotional support. MJ had a rally tonight that she'd spent weeks helping to plan. Peter wouldn't want to pull her away from that.

"Oh." There was the rasp of Tony scratching his goatee. "It's kind of important."

Peter ran his hand over his face. "Tony, if you don't want to see me anymore, just tell me, but I'm not sitting through an awkward break-up dinner because you think it's better to do it face to face."

"I'm not—I'm not breaking up with you." Tony sounded honestly shocked, like the thought had never occurred to him. "I wanted to talk to you about the Accords."

It was Peter's turn to say, "Oh."

"In what was a truly terrible week, you were the one good thing that happened to me. Every day, you make it worth getting out of bed in the morning." Tony sounded bewildered as he asked, "Why would you ever think I wanted to let that go?"

"Tony, you literally opened with the words, 'We need to talk.'"

"To convey the serious nature of the discussion and that we can't get distracted by sex, which—I love our sex life, but it's not exactly conducive to thoughtful conversation when the first thing you do on coming over is bend me over the nearest piece of furniture. I tend to lose my train of thought. I don't—" Tony's fingers drummed against what sounded like a glass surface. "I want to keep you. I thought I was clear about that."

Peter could only repeat, "Oh."

Tony cleared his throat. "So. Dinner?"

"I'd love to."

—

They had dinner delivered and ate at the kitchen table. Before anything else, pasta plated, but untouched, Tony said, "Everyone I know has told me this is a terrible idea, it's too soon, you're too young—"

Peter's chest went cold as he had time to think, _Guess you’re getting that break-up speech after all_.

Tony drew out a small box from his jacket pocket and thunked it on the table. "But that's yours whenever you want it."

With trembling hands, Peter picked it up. The outside was a velvety fabric. It opened on a hinge. Inside was a ring. Peter took it out and wordlessly slipped it on. It was a perfect fit.

"Now about the Accords—"

Peter shook his head. He stood up and went around the table to kiss Tony within an inch of his life. "If you wanted to talk about the Accords tonight, you shouldn't have proposed."

Tony kept kissing back. He managed to get out, "It was more of a pre-proposal."

" _I accepted_."

"You're right. It was a proposal." Tony pulled Peter back in.

Their food was cold by the time they got to it. Peter didn't mind.

—

It turned out that Tony was reviving the Avengers and really wanted Peter to join. Peter said yes to that, too.

—

It was a long engagement, made longer by a genocidal maniac and some magic stones. Neither gave up on the other. Peter kept the ring.

He kept Tony, too.

—

On their wedding night, Tony was feeling nostalgic. That was the only reason Peter could come up with for Tony asking, stumbling into their suite as they pulled at each other's clothing, "Are you wearing your web-shooters?"

"I wasn't expecting to fight any bad guys tonight." Peter got Tony's tie off. It was the work of a moment, Tony easily distracted by Peter nibbling at his neck, to tie him to the doorknob. "I'm good at improvising, though."

"Is this the part where I speculate about how you could lift me with one hand and what you could do with the other?"

"We've done that." Peter got an arm under Tony's thigh and lifted. "This is where I show you."

Later, carding his fingers through Peter's hair as they curled into one another on the large hotel bed, Tony said, "It still feels like I'm dreaming sometimes. I don't know how I got so lucky."

Peter smiled at Tony as he tangled their legs together. They kissed, slow, lazy kisses without any sense of urgency and which didn't need to lead anywhere. He thought, _This is my husband, Tony Stark._

"I'm the lucky one," Peter said.

Tony's eyes crinkled in a smile. "Maybe we're both lucky."

Peter agreed.

_This is my husband, Tony Stark, and I am never, ever letting go._

**Author's Note:**

> I have trouble on rereading my own work where something sometimes seems familiar because it was inspired elsewhere or is one of my bulletproof tropes or kinks that I write or read all the time and sometimes just because I have reread that particular scene/fic 5+ times. I'm not sure if this is that, or if a moment from this was actually taken from something I unknowingly imprinted on elsewhere. Google and my own history haven't helped me, so: if you recognize Tony putting his feet in Peter's lap in an airplane (or elsewhere?) in a win-win pushing the boundaries way in which he either gets to keep them there or to create some needed distance from someone he's falling for far too fast, only to have Peter be contrary and grab the foot, please let me know! I would a) like to credit anyone I pick stuff up from and b) reread and leave the author a comment.
> 
> Also, I am very slowly making my way through the archive in between all the writing, but if anyone has any recs for 18+ Peter/Tony, I will take them. (No judgment on other Peter/Tony, just no personal interest in reading.) Also also, I am running a very small IronSpider Discord, if anyone would like an invite.


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